Falling leaves mark the beginning
     of natures fast . . .
       Winter is coming

Hear her Icy bell blowing distance
   through your memory,
       as trees half naked
       spot the ground with clearer vision

         “Oh alas, the winds of winter blow
              captive through my soul
          And place the stones in order, spring
               doth disavow

           Whose cold reprieve an answer grants
                 in frosted shortened light
            To spread new life upon this breast,
                —and natures womb”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 1977)

High in my canopy
Vulnerable

My last leaf is caught in a gust from the north
Ripped from my grasp
It twists and turns
As I watch, it sails downward

The deep leaved forest floor shudders
The crush is deafening  
But, no one will hear

Alone I stand to battle the winter
As an urge of peace flows through me
I slip into a deep deep winters sleep

If I was a bird  or at least something with wings..
Perhaps I could fly...and fly..

You waited for the storm in my eyes to pass
and wreck someone else’s home for a change
you waited
ever so patiently
until it became a routine chore
but if you had looked up for more than a second
you would have realised that
Winter raised me
**I am the storm.

November comes
with the wild geese
in their V like memories
of an arrow flying
too close to the sun
and their feathers shining
as their wings beat as one
drum in the distance
signaling that winter
is coming, and the cold
days will keep us inside
warmed by the fires we crave
deep in our caves painting
and dreaming away.